


Things That Fall

by youaresunlight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Coffee Shops, Fluff, M/M, Pumpkins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-19 00:51:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2368157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youaresunlight/pseuds/youaresunlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The university bookstore is throwing a pumpkin-carving contest, which Cas decides to enter since the prize is a gift certificate and his textbooks are mad expensive. The last thing he expects, however, is to run into trouble at the local pumpkin patch, especially trouble that arrives in the form of a green-eyed, six-foot-tall dreamboat. (Wherein Dean royally screws up the whole first impression thing.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things That Fall

**Author's Note:**

> The title is borrowed from a poem, found [here](http://i.imgur.com/ZxTXpFr.png).

Castiel’s cell rings at the most inopportune times, like whenever he’s carrying the hottest drinks known to man or pouring corrosive chemicals into graduated cylinders. Right now is no real exception as he’s crouched all low and precarious on damp soil, and he teeters a bit while fishing the phone out of his pocket, groaning when his knee hits the ground - inevitably.

“Hi, Anna,” he sighs, ignoring the grass stain seeping through his jeans.

“Cas, are you still at the pumpkin patch?”

“Yes,” he replies glumly. “I’m beginning to suspect that the good ones have already been claimed.”

His sister huffs in that patient, indulgent way of hers. “Just remember that our dinner’s at six, okay? And I know you’re super picky about these things but you can afford to lower the standards a little.”

“Not when textbooks are gonna cost me my first-born child next term.” He stands and frowns at the brown splotch halfway up his leg, Anna humming on the other line like she’s realized again just how stubborn her little brother can be. “There’s only one more row left anyway,” he tells her. “Don’t worry, I won’t be late.”

Cas tucks the phone back into his pocket and turns to scan the final group of options, eyes moving across the oversized, the oblong, the prematurely decayed. His gaze ultimately settles on one three down from the right, with features ideal for carving and display, and his mouth curves in a relieved smile as he starts to walk toward it; the gourd god is merciful after all.

Or so Castiel thinks, until he actually reaches for the pumpkin and collides with a wall – at least, something that definitely feels like a wall. Whatever it is, the sturdy something sends Cas toppling backwards onto the grass, onto his butt, and sharpness spreads in his wrists after they mightily break his fall. He barely has a chance to wince, though, before a pair of strong hands heave him onto his feet, the movement making the blood rush to his head and jarring him from his surroundings.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry,” comes a gruff voice from somewhere very close to his face.

“It’s-” Cas wipes his dirty palms on his jeans, the motion slowed from disorientation, but when he glances up the air escapes his lungs altogether because holy hell the offending ‘wall’ was in fact a gorgeous man.

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

“It’s fine,” Cas manages, trying not to focus too much on the freckles or the pools of moss green catching all the afternoon light. His tone must sound reassuring enough since the guy is nodding, albeit apologetically, and then they’re kind of staring at each other, shyly, curiously, until Cas flushes hot and shuffles on his feet.

“I’m, uh, Dean, by the way.”

“Oh. I’m Cas... Nice crashing into you.”

Dean laughs outright and Cas’ heartbeat stutters at the low rumble of it, at the chill staining his cheeks a rosy pink to match his lips. Cas’ attention is suddenly everywhere, on Dean’s (nice) hands slipping into pockets and those eyes peering at him like he’s somehow fascinating. Consequently, it takes a fair moment for Cas to recall what he was doing before he literally bumped into Dean.

“One sec, I just-” he gestures to the side. “I have to grab the...” He bends down to pick up the pumpkin he singled out earlier, grateful that Dean comes to help carry it even though the weight is far from burdensome.

Wait, except. Except it soon dawns on Cas that Dean isn’t offering assistance so much as trying to take the pumpkin for himself, which is how they end up clutching possessively at the orange ridges between them and, wow, yeah, it’s pretty awkward. “Um,” Cas says quietly.

“Not to be a dick, but. I saw it first?”

Cas gapes. “You’re joking.”

Dean shrugs and maintains the audacity to grin, a lazy tug on the corner of his lips that does not, absolutely does not make Cas feel prickly all over. “It’s the best one here.”

“Yes, and had you not knocked me down, I would’ve-”

“Thought you forgave me for that,” Dean chuckles, eyes so damn green and bright, and Cas registers the firm press of calloused fingertips against his own, the touch awfully, annoyingly warm.

“That’s different,” he shoots back weakly.

“Well, s’not like you called dibs or anything.”

“ _Dibs_? What are you, twelve?”

“Hey, easy now, it takes two to fight over a pumpkin.”

“God, you’re-” _Aggravating_. Just... attractive and aggravating. “This is ridiculous,” he grunts. “I mean, I...” What, had it first? Finders keepers, losers weepers? Let's duke it out at recess?

Dean smirks, the whole thing distracting and lopsided, though it’s his accompanying words that stun Cas into incoherence. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he croons, the endearment rolling easily off his tongue. “You know, we could always share too, if you’re willing. I’d let you keep it first.”

“You...” Cas swallows hard and feels the heat creep up his neck, flaring beyond control when Dean winks and slides his hands so their fingers are practically twined.

He gets it, of course. He wouldn’t have expected someone as handsome as Dean to be sparing with his charm and ‘sweetheart’s and whatnot. Cas is probably like the fifth person _today_ whom Dean has called a name so cloyingly cute but he doesn’t want to think about that; as a matter of fact, he sort of wants to leave.

“No,” he finishes dejectedly, pushing the pumpkin into Dean’s arms and pulling away from the contact. “You take it. Happy Halloween.”

Dean’s face instantly falls. “Hey-” He steps forward but Cas averts his eyes and hurries off, not daring to look back as he heads toward the parking lot. The intensity of green, green eyes bores right into his skin despite the growing distance, and once he’s in the car, fumbling considerably with the keys, Cas glimpses Dean still watching him, rooted to his spot on the field.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

In retrospect, it was a good idea to visit the pumpkin patch over the weekend, given that the following week brings nothing save for dark, stormy clouds and showers. Cas finds it exhausting, the rain forcing him to dash between buildings and awnings, from his car to his dorm. Today, he’s drenched by the time he ducks into the campus bookstore, his anorak dripping onto the hardwood and his pathetically soaked Converse.

He shouldn’t go near the merchandise yet, Cas thinks, his skin being wet and the store being mostly paper. He decides to wait till he’s dry and bypasses the shelves for the café in the back, but that’s precisely when he detects a flash of ash brown and green behind the counter.

Cas freezes immediately because it’s- That’s Dean. Dean in a Henley and a black apron, smiling at a customer. He commands his feet to move, ideally in the opposite direction. They refuse (what a surprise) and it’s too late to do anything as soon as the girl pays and leaves the queue.

“Hey!” Dean calls, expression lit up in recognition. He subsequently adds “Cas” but it doesn’t sound like an afterthought. It’s actually soft and kind of diffident and makes Cas go weak at the knees.

“Hi,” he mumbles in return, approaching the counter and cringing at how his shoes squeak against the floor. Dean doesn’t seem to mind, with a smile so warm like the scent of cinnamon in the air, and Cas gravitates to him automatically, helpless like a moth to a flame.

“How’ve you been?”

“Um. Enjoying the weather,” Cas blurts out, alarmed when Dean laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard all day. He clears his throat and blushes, wanting to tell Dean to please, please stop, because he’s getting swept up in the sound and cannot handle this moment one bit.

“Right,” Dean finally replies, eyes crinkled and their irises greener than Cas remembers. He also knows he’s ogling and scrambles for something to talk about before his embarrassment truly gets out of hand.

“So, did you- How did your jack-o’-lantern...” Christ.

“Oh,” Dean rubs the back of his neck then points to the left, which Cas follows past the tea rack and the chocolate bars, until he sees an impressive Jack Skellington glowing eerily on the ledge. He would have thought it was store-bought with how appropriately sinister it looks.

“Wow,” Cas blinks. “You did that yourself?”

“Yeah... I meant to carve his happy face but- I was kinda angry and it became scarier than I intended.”

“Why were you angry?”

“Because, uh, I totally blew it with this hot guy I met at the pumpkin patch.”

Cas blinks again, dumbstruck. “... What?”

“Look,” Dean sighs, leaning in closer and fixing his gaze on Cas. “I acted like an idiot on Saturday, and- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable... I’m not usually- I wanted to get your attention and... panicked.”

Dean is biting at his bottom lip now, and everything’s been flipped on its head – because, one, apparently Cas suffered a thorough case of misjudgment and, two, when did his life turn into a freaking rom-com?

“You had my attention,” Cas admits to Dean, whose eyes widen like it’s news to him that he has a presence no one could disregard. “Should we... start fresh? Pretend we didn’t fight about a pumpkin?” Cas hedges, and the responding beam is quite a sight to behold, breathtaking and beautiful.

“I’d like that,” Dean nods, extending a hand forward. “I’m Dean Winchester. Junior, English major.”

“Castiel Novak,” Cas smiles over their handshake. “I’m a junior as well, majoring in biology.”

“Well, it’s a shame we’ve missed each other for the past two years, huh?” Dean shakes his head. “But better late than never.” He retrieves a new cup and waves at the blackboard menu above them both. “What would you like?”

It only occurs to Cas then that this is a café and his original objective was to drink coffee, so he gives the list a cursory peek and reads off the first item under Seasonal Specials. “Candied apple latte?”

“Sure thing. Find a seat, I’ll bring it out to you.”

“How much is-”

“It’s on the house.”

Dean grins and moves away to the machines before Cas can protest, whistling and maneuvering the nozzles and buttons with deft, experienced hands. Cas eventually relents and goes to sit just a few short feet from the counter, and though he opens the magazine someone left behind on the table it could’ve been a _Maxim_ for all he knows; he’s completely attuned to Dean whereas the rest of the space is a blur.

“Here you go.”

Cas’ eyes dart up from the glossy pages he’s not-reading, which thankfully belong to _Newsweek_ and contain no photos of scantily clad celebrities. Dean smiles at him and heads back to serve another student waiting in line, while Cas glances down at his latte and comes dangerously close to dropping the magazine on top of it.

Because in the foam, in lieu of a leaf or a heart or whatever else, Dean has written his number: ten unmistakable digits in syrup. Cas blushes as he stares, torn between snapping a picture and somehow physically preserving it forever. In the end, he makes the wisest choice and saves the number in his contacts.

“I... saw that you wrote something on the coffee,” Cas says later when he returns the mug and saucer.

“Yeah?” Dean shoots him a playful smile. “Hmm, looks like you drank it.”

“Don’t worry, it’s- I have it.”

“Good. You should, uh, use it sometime. Maybe to, you know, give me your number.”

“Yes,” Cas smiles, ducking his head. “I will.”

“Do you have to head out?” Dean asks when their eyes meet again, gesturing to Cas’ backpack.

“I do. I’ve... got a lab.”

“Ah. You better take this then.” Dean reaches under the counter and pulls out a blue umbrella, which he places into Cas’ startled hand. “Those science buildings are on the other side of campus, right?”

“Dean-” 

“My shift’s over at seven. Are you free for dinner?” 

“I... Yes,” Cas hears himself answer somewhat breathlessly. “Yes, I’ll be done at seven too.” 

“Cool. Don’t stand me up, alright? I’ll be stuck in the rain.” Dean laughs but Cas can tell that he’s nervous, and it’s honestly the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. 

“I won’t. I promise.” 

Cas walks out of the bookstore in a daze, his lighthearted gait at odds with the angry weather awaiting outside. He unclasps the umbrella and opens it up before stepping onto the sidewalk, and the patter of raindrops nearly causes him to miss the voice calling from the entrance. 

“Hey, Cas!” 

He spins around just as Dean joins him beneath the umbrella, one hand lifting up to curl tightly in his jacket. Dean tugs on the fabric and leans forward at the same time, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Cas’ mouth. He then pulls back so that his lips are merely hovering, yet still close enough that Cas can feel the entire curve of his private smile. “See you tonight,” he murmurs, the words ghosting tenderly across Cas’ skin, and their patent affection makes Cas forget that he’s standing out in the cold rain.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Extra:**

Dean is the student who wins the pumpkin-carving contest, which isn’t a surprise though Cas teases him about the bookstore’s nepotism in selecting from its own employees. Dean kisses the pout away and offers to share the prize with Cas, adding “Anything for my sweet, nerdy boyfriend” because he’s a gorgeous, cheeky bastard. Cas tells him as much, rolling his eyes at the grin he gets in response, and proceeds to wipe the smugness off that gorgeous face by blowing him rather avidly in the bathroom.

**Author's Note:**

> That final line is what bumped up the rating and my dear friend R is the one to blame. I also have to thank her profusely because writer's block is a hideous beast and I wouldn't have finished this without her encouragement. ♥
> 
> Do leave me your thoughts and come say hello on [Tumblr](http://puppycastiel.tumblr.com). Happy autumn!


End file.
